P R 

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L385M3 
1915 



MATRIMONY 

BY 

JOHN TREVENA 





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COPYRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



MATRIMONY 



MATRIMONY 

BY 

JOHN TREVENA 



"\A_rv->-. 




NEW YORK 
MITCHELL KENNERLEY 

1915 






3 



COPYRIGHT, I9I 2, BY 
THE FOUR SEAS COMPANY 

COPYRIGHT, 191 5, BY 
MITCHELL KENNERLEY 



THE FOUR SEAS PRESS 
BOSTON AND NORWOOD 




t 

'GI.A41173 



SEP 28 1915 

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NOTE 

Matrimony is not a story, but an attempt to reproduce 
the marriage service of the mediaeval church. 

J. T. 



MATRIMONY 



BETROTHAL 11 

BLESSING OF THE RING 23 

SOLEMNISATION 29 

BENEDICTION 39 

THE KISS 47 

THE NIGHT 53 



BETROTHAL 



BETROTHAL 

THERE was always a civilization of the heart. Culti- 
vated fields might be few, houses be mean, a gibbet 
stand upon the hill, the black death rage, but where 
a few were gathered together there would be love : in 
any age, even the darkest: in any place, even Widdecombe in 
the cold country : in the time of plague and superstition, in 
the time of oppression and fear of kings, in the time of ignor- 
ance, fighting often, and exposure to all the wild winds, in 
the time of squalor, God would not go. All that we know of 
these people of the past is that they were ruled by the heart, 
and there was little of happiness in their lives but love. Their 
manners would have been strange to us, and we should have 
understood no word of their rough dialect. Therefore we may 
only translate their feelings, which we know were the same 
as ours, into the language we can speak and read. 

Straight and tall as now, but then new, rose the tower 
from Widdecombe church-town. The village had emptied 
itself into the church, for it was early morning, Mass time, 
and Sir Robert Mareschall was late. It was only a weekday, 
no festival, yet the church was full, and strange savages from 
the moor, unbelieving and yet desiring protection, knelt in 
the porch. Do not forget this was the age of darkness, when 
men came to church because they knew no better. The 
eyes of all were upon the pyx, suspended in the form of a dove 
from a chain above the high altar, before it a red light, behind 
it the crucifix. All things were in order, nothing costly, for 
Widdecombe was not wealthy, but all the vessels and vest- 
ments were worthy, very different from the neighbouring 
parish of Ashburton where the pyx was made of wood and 
had mo lock, the Nuptial Veil was ragged, the Missal was 

11 



12 Matrimony 

rotten and moth-eaten, and there was not even an image of 
the blessed patron saint. Every child in Widdecombe knew 
what a goodly vessel held the incense in their church, how 
beautiful the Holy Chrism, how perfect the Graduale and the 
Antiphonale, how fine the linen cloths; and as for the vest- 
ments, had they not stared often at Sir Robert's festival cope 
fastened by gorgeous morse, which they had no doubt at all 
was a finer jewel than any of the King's. 

Henry, the eighth of his royal name, the God-hater, was 
not yet born. The church was still free and everywhere the 
centre of life and love; and the priests, bearing the courtesy 
title of "Sir," were then the fathers of their people. Imagina- 
tion could not easily exaggerate the glories of that church, 
the splendor or pathos of its ceremonies. The magnificence of 
its architecture may be guessed by the sight of the Abbey at 
Westminster, a small, mean building in comparison with the 
Abbey Churches of Reading, Glastonbury, Fountains, and 
many another, which were to be destroyed by that incarnation 
of evil who was to bring a stain upon the throne forever. The 
age of doubt was far away, nor was there any prophet to fore- 
tell the horrors of the Reformation. There was peace at little 
Widdecombe in the moor. 

Yet in the church was a sound like brawling. Men were 
very ignorant and earnest. The sun was high above the tors, 
and each man had his daily toil awaiting, but could not go to 
it until he had received the blessing and had seen his God 
made upon the altar. There were voices and mutterings al- 
most savage, and when Sir Robert appeared from the vestry 
and slowly mounted to the holy place, they broke out. The 
men were rough, wild with excitement and some terror, lest 
their priest should have lost the power to bring God down. 

"Haste, Sir Robert, haste!" they cried aloud; and some 
stood up and held their arms out. 

"My horses wait. Hold up my God that I may see Him." 



Betrothal 13 

"Father!" cried a man, "I have far to go this day. I 
must look on Jesus Christ before I go." 

"Peace, my children," said Sir Robert; and began the 
Mass. 

Those whose duties were urgent departed after the Eleva- 
tion, secure for that day against witches and the power of the 
devil : many remained to the end, among them a girl and 
boy, a fair couple, lately betrothed, although neither had 
reached the age of twenty, but folk married young in those 
days, children in face and children in beauty, Anthonie Byland 
and Petronel Layne. They were to be married when the 
priest thought fitting. 

As Sir Robert came out of the church they joined him, 
one on each side, and walked on, with hands holding his, like 
children with their father, towards his house. The priest was 
not learned, and he talked a dialect which we should not com- 
prehend — even the great men of Lydford or Exeter town 
spoke much the same — and he wrote a letter with exceeding 
difficulty, finding many different ways of spelling his name, 
recorded for us as Mareschall which we should render to-day 
by Marshall; but he was a holy man, always on the side of 
the Widdecombe tinners against the Court of Stannary — 
had not the tower of his church, still accounted one of the 
most beautiful in England, been built as a labour of love by 
these same tinners? — always in communion with his people 
and knowing their troubles before even they brought them to 
him. 

"Father," said Anthonie, "shall we not be married very 
soon ? 'Tis hard to wait." 

"Nay, child, ha' patience," said the old man, pretending 
to be gruff. "Why, 'twas only a year or two agone, as it 
seems, I purified thy mother for bearing thee, and as for this 
young maiden — " 

"Father, I am sixteen," cried Petronel. 



14 Matrimony 

"Od's pitikins, maid, was it not last Invention o' the Holy 
Rood thy god-sibs brought thee to the door o' church, and 
when I spake in the words of the office, 'Quid petis — what 
seekest thou?' thy father answered, 'Baptismum,' and I raised 
thee in my arms, and most horribly thou didst howl?" 

"Father, father! It was long years ago." 

"Longer than thou canst mind. And now thou wouldst 
be wed. Where is the ring, my Anthonie?" 

"I will ride my pony into Aysperione town, and buy it of 
the silver-merchant there." 

"Returning, child, the wild Guhbins will set about and 
take it from thee." 

"I would break their heads with my cudgel and ride over 
them." 

Sir Robert looked at the young lovers tenderly, pressing 
a hand of each to his side. Life hung upon a thread, any day 
it might be cut by the sword of violence or broken by the 
arrow of pestilence ; from the sword he, as a priest, was safe, 
but he knew that when Anthonie went to Ashburton for 
the ring, the black death might return with him, or he might 
be drawn into some quarrel and not return at all. It was an 
age when the fear of death was ever-present, when young 
people were eager for the Nuptial Mass, to secure their short- 
lived happiness, knowing too well that the Mass for the dead 
might follow soon. 

"The season of Advent is near," said Sir Robert gravely. 
"Then cometh Epiphany and the cold weather, and after that 
the forty days. The Church does not love a winter's bride. 
Then cometh May, Petronel." 

"The maypole and the flower-dance. I was queen two 
years ago." 

"Thou shalt be queen again, queen of thy husband and his 
home. The last day of the month is the festival of thy patron, 
child, Petronilla, virgin and not martyr, even as thou art. 



Betrothal is 

There are nocturnes at midnight and daybreak, for the feast 
falls within the Octave of Holy Trinity, and thou shalt bring 
flowers for the holy place, my maid." 

"Thou wilt bless us then, Father?" cried Anthonie. 

"June, child, June," said Sir Robert hastily. "I do not 
love a May marriage." 

It seemed a long wait for the lowers: through the rest of 
autumn, the stretch of winter, and much of spring. It seemed 
to them a penance for sins they had not committed, but Sir 
Robert was wise. It was not well for a young couple to start 
the new life near winter, with the storms and cold weather 
to try them. June was the time for a bride to blush, a time 
for love, when nature unaided would make the home lovely, 
and each green oak would become a tree of heaven. It was 
good for them to wait a little, to feel the trials of the cold 
country bringing them nearer, knitting their souls together in 
a miraculous way, SO' that neither could laugh without an 
echo, or sigh without answer; and when the irost and snow 
had departed, and the time of probation was over, they would 
kneel beneath the Nuptial Veil, and be welded joint by joint 
in body as in soul. Their earthly parents claimed them only 
for daily duties. Now that they were betrothed their spiri- 
tual father, Sir Robert, and their spiritual mother, the Church, 
had full control over the lives of Anthonie and Petronel. 

So the winter came, as it must, dark and somewhat awful, 
and the lovers were frightened. There was a horror upon 
them as of the end of things ; and they drew closer like chil- 
dren in the night, passing along hand in hand, speaking brave 
words to encourage one another, while the winds howled 
about them, and the waters roared, and everything seemed 
to be dead except love. Sir Robert watched them, and was 
glad, knowing that their hearts were right; and each week, 
on a cold dark morning in the church of little Widdecombe 
in the wind, he said a Mass for their welfare, murmuring in 



1 6 Matrimony 

secret, "We receiving this Sacrament of our everlasting salva- 
tion, entreat thy mercy, O Lord, that by it Thou wouldst 
preserve Thy servants, Anthonie and Petronel, from all ad- 
versity." That kindly love of the Mother and Father welled 
from the altar and reached the children ; and yet they were 
frightened, for the country would not live. 

"It is not the time of death," said Sir Robert. "It is the 
time of birth." 

They could not understand him, for it was December. 
They walked beneath the naked trees, feeling that they must 
keep together or they would be lost. Why was Nature so 
prodigal of. her charms in spring, so miserly in those days 
which seemed to belong to no season at all? It would have 
been so easy for the God of life to have appointed a Sacrament 
of winter, a new miracle which might have sprinkled the 
wood and spotted the fields with as many flowers as in May, 
frost-resisting things like the snowdrop, which being white, 
asks for no sunshine. There was impatience in that question 
when they saw the nakedness of the land, shuddering and pull- 
ing sheets of cold water over its body for shame, murmuring, 
"Do not look at me now." Nature seemed bankrupt: she 
could not pay for even one hour of sunshine every day; and 
the holy marriage tie was being violated, as it seemed ; the 
solemn union between God and the earth was in danger of 
dissolution * a writ of divorce had issued ; a few more of those 
intolerable showers of ice must surely establish the decree, 
unless some divine attorney from the spiritual court should 
intervene. Sir Robert and the Church were after all power- 
less ; they could not offer up a Mass which by its magic should 
make the trees burst into leaf and restore their sun to them. 

If there was to be no more matrimony, what then? If 
the holiest bond of all was broken, what hope for lovers? 
The spiritual parents knew nothing of divorce ; that was in the 
hands of the Holy Father, who was as much outside the world 



Betrothal ij 

of hearts and kisses as God Himself. But with these fears Sir 
Robert came and walked with the children, often in body, 
sometimes in spirit, pointing out to them what they had 
missed ; and by the virtue of his eyes their own were opened. 

Who was this riding through the wood upon a goat, amid 
a shower of brown leaves, with a face as bright as a berry, 
who but the spirit of winter — not the old cripple December, 
not the wreck of the year, old, worn-out time, with broken 
and dinted rubbish of hour-glass and scythe, a white wisp of 
hair streaming across his lantern-jaws ; but the immortal spirit 
of the resurrection, a being of child-like eagerness and soft 
eyes? Here was no old Nestor, croaking of past days, but 
Robin Goodfellow; no quack with some celestial tincture to 
make the old young again, but a merry fellow looking for- 
ward, a laughing fellow, without whom Nature would be lost ; 
everything that fell to the ground to rest a little, feigning 
death like a cunning beast, pleading it as an excuse for idle- 
ness, would for lack of that laughing spirit take more than the 
outward image of death, would not germinate, and a cold seal 
would be placed upon that spot whence life must issue. 

The children, walking after Benediction in the wood, felt 
the presence of this glad spirit, and as they clung together 
heard him speak, just as Sir Robert spoke, when it was time 
for muttering, as the little bell tinkled, and the incense hid 
him in a fog : 

"You call me winter, lovers. I am the good physician. 
I remove old growths and deliver the branches of buds. With 
my gales I amputate diseased limbs, rubbing in my frost 
to prevent decay. With my snow I purify the soil. And 
when my work is done I go a-raumming, with a wreath of 
holly round my head, and wherever I pass the rowan-wood 
is flung upon the fire, and I hear folk say, 'It is the beginning, 
not the end.'" 

The light was going out, the darkness increased, the 



18 Matrimony 

waters were rising. The lovers trembled because the world 
seemed fiercer, and matrimony was, like heaven, far away. 
And yet never had the heaven looked so near. The atmos- 
phere was clear with frost; they could see Orion striding 
across the sky, and great Sirius, sun of winter. Their eyes 
were opened, and they saw things which were a great way 
off. 

"Spring is my son," went on the muttering. "He shirks 
his work, comes to it late, and often puts it off until to-mor- 
row; but he never fails lovers, for when I frighten him with 
frost, he grows serious, and comes along the wood whistling 
with a warm west wind. Here is what I leave to him — all 
that I have. Life, lovers ! New life !" 

The children were beginning to understand. Here was 
no bequest of dead wood, but life, young life, like their own. 
The bareness of the beginning resembled the nakedness of 
the end, although there was neither beginning nor end. In 
the alphabet of time Aleph the ox wears the yoke of the long 
O : the two ends are lost in one circle, so that no man shall 
take an hour, nor yet a day, and say, "here we begin," or, 
"here we end." This winter god was the herald of the resur- 
rection, and all that followed was part of rough December, 
proceeding out of the strength of his days, his darkness, and 
his storms. 

The lovers heard the noise upon the moor and within 
the wood. As they walked they found waters in flood, mists 
hanging low, the wind beating ash against oak, dead leaves 
sweeping down the slopes, the light ghastly, the world break- 
ing. Emptiness, desolation, decay; smd all life departing in a 
whirlwind. 

And yet it was not so ; now at last they knew it was not 
so, because their love was higher. Life was returning in 
that whirlwind. That noise which they heard around was 
no dirge, but the march of God in triumph. It was the sound 



Betrothal ig 

of His water-pipes and wind rejoicing over the conquest of 
death. This noise was to arouse the sleeping plants, the 
winds were to shake the slumbering trees into life again. 
Winter thundered, and shouted "Awake!" and each stirred 
a little and opened a bud to answer. 

The lovers could not see the soil out of which the oak-tree 
grew, because of the mantle of russet leaves. In them was a 
form of death, but they were not dead; they melted into the 
earth and nourished the roots which gave the tree strength to 
bear green again. Fruit also was among the leaves, acorns, 
some green, some brown, and the delicate cups which they had 
grown from. They saw what they called the nakedness of the 
tree, the bareness of the boughs ; and then, at the word of 
Benediction, the mist and the rain-cloud passed, and the twigs 
growing at the level of their eyes were clothed, covered with 
m f ant buds, brown every one, small and willing to burst into 
green clusters when the call came. These rustling leaves, 
which the tree had put off, even as a man throws his thread- 
bare cloak from him and takes another, these green fingers 
which caught at the breezes and caressed sunbeams, were sent 
to the ground, not by any process of death, but by the gradual 
birth and rising of the bud beneath ; they were cast off by life ; 
and now the lovers saw that life throbbing upon every tree 
in a host of buds which could not be numbered, all silent 
as yet in the midst of the tumult, because the time of matri- 
mony had not yet come. 

And at last there was allowed a day as young as April: 
not warm, for there was a frost on the other side of the sun- 
shine, but coloured like a Missal-page, water-colours all, no hot 
and thick September oils, but liquid stuff, dripping, nothing 
stagnant, faint blue turning into grey on the sky-line, and pink 
cherubic lip pouting at the edge of the clouds. A rare colour 
that pink, and easy to remember. On such a day Anthonie 
and Petronel descended from the heights, where snow lay 



20 Matrimony 

unbroken, but below not a flake; and as they came into a 
rough brake, where the bracken of the year that had been was 
crumpled in its rusty death, they stopped, conscious both of 
color that was music. Behind them the sun, in front a bush 
of holly on fire with berries and sunset; nothing more. One 
bush of holly among hundreds, and ) r et something was there 
they had never seen before; a glory, a transfiguration; the 
bush burnt and was not consumed. During those few mo- 
ments every sense was satisfied, nothing more was needed, 
no other ceremony, no more Sacramental presence, not even a 
kiss. Life had risen high, run over, and the part that was 
spilled passed down and melted into the light on that holly- 
bush. And then, though the sun had not gone, the colour was 
there no longer ; the bush became cold and as the others, the 
fire went out; and as Anthonie and Petronel watched the 
sacred embers dying, and the berries darkening one by one, 
they clung to each other again, frightened no longer, but full 
of happiness and hope, as those who had been shown the 
Sacrament of the resurrection of life, who had opened the 
gates of a grave prepared to shudder at the corpse, and had 
found instead, neither death, nor yet decay, but a living child, 
with wonder of the world in its young eyes. 



BLESSING OF THE RING 



BLESSING OF THE RING 

THERE must be joy of life in June, or not at all. 
They who are sad then must keep their sadness, 
but let them not walk in the way of lovers. 
There was joy upon little Widdecombe in the moor, 
happy Widdecombe, not yet famous in legend as the dwelling- 
place of the devil, nor consumed by lightning and fire-balls; 
no shadow yet of the awful day when the priest was to be 
dragged from his moorland home, to be hanged and quartered 
for the sin of obeying the voice of God rather than the voice of 
a devil. No man then living was to see that day. It was 
peaceful in the vale of Widdecombe, cut off from the world by 
the heaving moor, and its rude folk were happy because they 
knew no other life. Few even of the old had travelled more 
than a dozen miles away. Sir Robert alone had passed 
through the gates of Exanceaster, as Exeter was then called. 
There was joy, because it was the eve of St. Boniface, and 
Anthonie and Petronel were to be married in the morning. 

See them walking in the valley for the last time separated. 
On St. Boniface's day they would be made one altogether, two 
bodies and one flesh, joined by that awful presence, which 
seemed to them both alive and thrilling in the midst of the in- 
cense, when Sir Robert muttered it down and into being. Ah, 
but they were ignorant, these pretty children. They knew 
not how to write or read those twisted letters in the psalter. 
They had but a few words which they kept on using. They 
would run after the priest like babies, to hold his hands, and 
steal a blessing from him. They knew that God was good, 
that He lived partly in a place called heaven, and partly in the 
white dove which quivered before the altar, and they knew 
that if they offended Him their marriage would be stopped by 

23 



24 Matrimony 

lightning. What else? They knew how to love. It was a 
mighty power in their healthy bodies ; not a gentle flower-like 
thing in that June sunshine, but something stronger, half 
savage, like the rivers as they had been during winter, tearing 
away obstacles with white flood-water. In December love had 
been like the song of a bird at evening; in April as the flight 
of a butterfly; in May it was a hunger and thirst. And now 
upon the eve it was a kind of death, a feeling that life was 
over, and a restless sleep beginning; a forgetfulness of the 
world of fighting and disease, for they were almost out of it, 
and could not remember they had to go back : a vision of a spir- 
itual life beyond, among golden clouds ; and yet all the time 
this earthly life was gnawing them, and they had to be away 
from others, eating their own food of each other's breath, 
adoring fair skin and soft hair, biting the tips of fingers, sigh- 
ing and moaning like two gentle breezes meeting round the 
turret of the tower. Forgive them if they knew only one 
thing well. For they were wise. 

It was evening, the first shadows were crossing, when Sir 
Robert, walking in his garden, lifted up his eyes and saw the 
children of his thoughts approaching, with the glory and shy- 
ness of new life upon their faces. It was a time for whisper- 
ing: there was too much mystery in the air for declamation, 
the church would not like to hear laughter, and there is a form 
of happiness which is beyond it and brings tears. The place 
was solemn, so were the young flowers asleep, Petronel also 
hung her head, and there was little colour on her face ; for the 
great Mother was so near, and she knew that Sir Robert had 
been walking hand in hand with God through the garden, re- 
commending Anthonie and herself to His love. 

"The ring, my Father," said Anthonie, holding it out. 

A plain and simple thing, made not of gold but of silver, 
because silver was by the Church accounted purer than gold, 
and being pure it signified the inward affection which ought 



Blessing of the Ring 25 

ever to be fresh between husband and wife. Sir Robert took 
it, let it drop into the hollow of his hand, and whispered, 
"Come, my children. " 

The ring was then unworthy to be worn by a bride, be- 
cause it was a thing cursed by Satan, who hates lovers; it 
might contain some spell, the evil eye might have overlooked 
it, and, like any inanimate object which was to be applied to a 
sacred purpose, it had to be sanctified, in order that the evil 
spirit then possessing it might be driven out. 

It was very soothing- in the church ; around it winds mur- 
mured, but they seemed far away. The lamp before the pyx 
looked like a star to guide the wanderers home. The children 
knelt and signed themselves, Sir Robert passed to the vestry, 
and soon they stood beside the stoup of holy water, the priest 
holding the ring with the first three fingers of his right hand — 
so precise were the rubrics — and on each side of him Anthonie 
and Petronel stood holding a lighted candle, which gave all the 
light to the world that was needful for the short and simple 
ceremony. There was a versicle and response, two short 
prayers, twice was the ring blessed and signed; and then Sir 
Robert took a little holy water which he sprinkled upon it, 
and the miracle was accomplished. Henceforth the ring would 
be holy, proof against all enchantments and the wiles of the 
devil ; nor would any act of its wearer suffice to make it again 
a thing of evil, for the ring once blessed remained holy for 
ever. 



SOLEMNISATION 



SOLEMNISATION 

THE sun was weak, the day still wet, when the bells 
began ; and there was a goodly mist upon the hills, 
like smoke of superstition before the rood conceal- 
ing mysteries. Sweet smells were in the valley 
where old gardens made a fragrance, and already the air was 
humming with work-a-day bees ; so who would not rise and 
be up ready for marriage, who could lie abed in that young 
June of red blood and blue sky, who would not hasten to be at 
the door, and see the white bride shimmering in the mist? 

Anthonie, before the night was out, ran often to the door 
to wish the clouds away. Sir Robert awoke like a bird at the 
first light : the service was early, for the people had their work, 
and it was necessary for him to take it fasting. Ask not of 
Petronel. She has been toying with white garments for an 
hour or two, lying hidden like a dove in a wood, murmuring 
a litany, and with little gasps of fear clutching a fylfot cross 
that swung as a charm from her neck. 

There was not much music : only children singing as they 
waited for the bride, while the old sun, thinking he was to be 
worshipped again, came out and searched for his altars on the 
hill-top. Sir Robert, wise priest to choose a June morning, 
left his house, beheld the churchyard full, and perhaps sighed, 
considering how soon the summer went with life and youth, 
how soon Anthonie and Petronel, children as they were, would 
stand no longer over, but with him under, while others just as 
eager would be over them waiting for child-brides then un- 
born ; but the mother would live on, and the immortal myster- 
ies of the altar, so he thought, and was happy to be no pro- 
phet, happy not to see the altars overthrown, the sacred lamp 
extinguished, the church a dry shell humming with cold wind, 

29 



So Matrimony 

and matrimony the sport of law-courts. It was the age of 
ignorance, and he was satisfied; and if there was a shadow on 
that morning- it would be cast by the thought that here was 
the ending of a romance, nothing to others, but so great to 
them ; for marriage is an ending, the end of youth, of that 
wild, restless struggle with hot life, a beginning of peace and 
better things ; and the joining together of two he had baptised 
must surely remind Sir Robert that his own change was not a 
great way off. 

The bells ceased. Children were still singing softly, not 
heeding much the words, for their eyes were busy, while their 
elders murmured, and the very old were garrulous with whis- 
pers. Petronel was coming, surrounded by her relations. An 
anxious time for her and them. Spells of witchcraft were in 
the air, the evil one was doing his utmost to mar her happi- 
ness, the eye of the smallest child in that assembly might 
prove disastrous. Nobody must see her face, not even the 
bridegroom, for Satan might put some evil thought into his 
heart, and it might be cast from his eyes upon the bride, and 
take effect before she became one with him. Even the glances 
of admiration might have been dang-erous had they fallen upon 
a face uncovered. Therefore she was hidden by the bridal veil, 
a custom which has survived, and in an unlearned age has 
been explained as necessary to hide the blushes of the bride. 

The ordeal of passing between the people was over, and 
they stood together before the door of the church, as the ru- 
bric required, before the face of the Mother Church, in the 
presence of God, the priest, and the people; and Anthonie 
stood at the right side of Petronel, not as a sign of his superi- 
ority as a man, but because Eve was formed from a rib taken 
out of the left side of Adam. Sir Robert gazed about him, and 
began to speak, not in priestly Latin, but in the old mother 
tongue : 

"Brethren, we are gathered together in the sight of God 



Solemnisation 31 

and His angels, and all the saints, in the face of the Church, to 
join together two persons, to wit, this man and this 
woman " 

He paused, and folding his arms looked upon them, as he 
was bound to do, in order that he might know them if God 
called to him at any time, and said, "Who are these that you 
have joined together in My Name?" He saw the fine eyes of 
Anthonie, the drooping head of Petronel, and he smiled and 
put out a hand as if he would caress them ; for they were his 
children, and he loved them. 

"That whatsoever they may have done aforetime, hence- 
forth they may be one body yet two souls, in the faith and law 
of God." 

He turned and charged the people sternly, that if any of 
them knew any cause why Anthonie and Petronel could not 
lawfully make contract of matrimony, he should declare it; 
and the same charge he made to the two children : that if they 
had done aught secretly, or made any vow or knew any im- 
pediment, they should at once confess it ; but he hardly stayed 
for an answer, knowing more of their lives than any man liv- 
ing. And turning himself about, he asked, "What dower has 
this woman?" smiling again as he referred to the slight, 
trembling figure with that stately term. 

It was time for Petronel's father to look up and mutter of 
the ponies, the good cow, the linen, and some few articles of 
furniture, which were to be his daughter's contribution to the 
home: useful articles, but no money. Little of that was 
known, and little was needful. The answer was sufficient, al- 
though the question was formal — had not Petronel gone over 
every item with Sir Robert many a time? And so he turned 
to the bridegroom, and asked in his gentle English voice: 

"Anthonie, wilt thou have this woman to thy wedded 
wife; wilt thou love, honour, hold and cherish her, in health 
and in sickness, as a husband should a wife, and, forsaking all 



32 Matrimony 

other, keep thee only unto her, so long as ye both shall live?" 
Not a moment passed before the answer came, "I will." 
The time of probation was over, sickness and death had 
been avoided, and the last effort of the winter conquered. 
Here was the reward coming- after those weeks of doubtings 
and fears, lest the day might never come, of horror in the dark 
weeks lest God should forbid the banns and not allow such 
happiness this side heaven. Everything had been conquered, 
even self, during those days of warm winds and pale prim- 
roses ; and now the joy and the light and the colour of life and 
the years were at their full, and the mists of the morning were 
streaming from the tors. 

"Petronel, wilt thou have this man to thy wedded hus- 
band ; wilt thou obey and serve him ; love, honour, and cherish 
him in health and sickness, as a wife should a husband, and, 
forsaking all other, keep thee only unto him so long as ye both 
shall live?" 

The answer was inaudible, but Sir Robert guessed the 
words shaped by her quivering lips, and his own moved in the 
form of a benediction. The child dreams, he thought, and was 
not wrong, for Petronel was in her soul within the church, 
struggling towards that dove behind the lamp, imploring the 
mystery to give them time, much time, love and yet more love, 
year after year, kiss after kiss, embrace upon embrace, no 
cooling, no end, no death : a miracle, if it were possible to that 
miracle ; only let them live, let them live June after June, and 
not die ; keep the shadows away and the Holy Chrism from 
their door; and let not the candles be lighted and the Black 
Mass muttered for them, for they were so young, and the 
miracle was so old, yet fresh every day, and, if it would, it 
could keep them, like itself, alive. 

Her hand was being lifted by her father, her little white 
hand, which was uncovered because she was a maid; and this 
little hand was given to Sir Robert, as if it had not been hers 



Solemnisation 33 

to dispose of ; and the old priest held it for a few moments in 
his warm grasp, feeling it gently moving and throbbing, and 
pressing his fingers round it reassuringly, before he passed it 
into the right hand of Anthonie, eager to receive it that he 
might give his bride the troth, saying after Sir Robert pre- 
sently in the soft old English words : 

"I, Anthonie, take the Petronel, to my wedded wyf, to 
have and to holde fro this day forwarde, for better for wors, 
for richere for poorer, in sykenesse and in hele, tyl dethe us 
departe, if holy chyrche it woll ordeyne, and therto I plight 
the my trouthe." 

The hands withdrew, only for a moment, that the sensa- 
tion of touch and the joy of union might be renewed, and this 
time by Petronel. Now it was Anthonie's right hand that 
came to hers, brought to its happy home by the priest, who 
was beginning to murmur those words which she had by 
heart, like all maids, matrons, or widows, near and far. She 
still trembled, but not with fear, more as the flower fluttering 
in sunshine at the pleasant touch of a breeze; and the small, 
childish voice was clear, even to the old folk, who had their 
hands behind their ears, leaning forward to listen and think 
and have their dream of memory : 

"I, Petronel take the Anthonie, to my wedded hous- 
bonder, to have and to holde fro this day forwarde, for better 
for wors, for richere for poorer, in sykenesse and in hele, to be 
bonere and buxum in bedde and at the borde, tyl dethe us de~ 
parte, if holy chyrche it woll ordeyne, and therto I plight the 
my trouthe." 

Again the hands were withdrawn. All fear was at an end ; 
life was theirs. Face to face they stood before the priest, the 
church, and the great Absent One, there nevertheless, and saw 
the world idealised, each tree and leaf, mountain and river, an 
emblem of the heaven beautiful ; not things of the earth, not 
common types of landscape, but bound up with their souls, 



34 Matrimony 

their feelings, and their eyes, into the form, colour, and life of 
that new spiritual state which was theirs. All material things 
melted into the blessed vapour of holy incense, taking a new 
shape, making a new earth, theirs, and for them alone. Their 
hands felt, and their eyes saw, nothing tangible, even the rocks 
became made of cloud-stuff, the trees were sacraments, the 
sacred fire of the lamp, the holy water, were protecting an- 
gels. There was no separation by death. All things in Nature 
were joined together, and all the powers of darkness combined 
could not part them asunder. Real life was theirs, not the out- 
ward form alone, but the inward and spiritual part, visible 
then to their eyes, as the veil, which had covered the hitherto 
unseen earth of God and the garden which He had planted, 
dropped, and all things fashioned upon the six days stood forth 
revealed, surrounded with that flame and vapour of the Sac- 
ramental elements divine; and beyond, far beyond earth and 
sea, where surely no mortal eye had ever reached before, were 
still more luminous expanses, passing from infinite wonders of 
a new daylight, into a succession -of twilights, through all 
manner of clouds, making music as they shifted, and tinted 
cities of the saints ; and so at last into the eternity, where 
there was still a promise of life, more happiness and divine 
passion, more matrimony, for a lamp was burning far away in, 
the infinite before the great altar of the home of wonder and 
of love. 

Stories increased about the enchanted lovers, tales of the 
woods, rivers, and flowers, making phantoms of the wedding- 
guests, leaving but one figure clear, the vested body and calm 
face of the old father who had wafted over them the spirit of 
enchantment. Bride had been united to bridegroom, earth 
had been joined to heaven, spirit had been wedded to matter, 
and the issue of these marriages were gods ; so that the trees 
were no longer vegetable growths, but dryads, the hills were 
oreads, the wood where they had walked and trembled was a 



Solemnisation 35 

nymph, and the river was an angel with long hair. All mat- 
ter became absorbed by symbolism, with a sympathy and fel- 
lowship for matrimony ; leaves and stems, blossoms and fruit, 
running water and granite hills, were spirits singing a love 
song, and clustering with benediction round the bridal veil. 

Thus mortal children put on immortality. Not for them 
the ravines and chasms, where waters roared in perpetual 
twilight, those horrible dark noondays, the obscured moons, 
and dusks of deep forest roads where fungi grew and reptiles 
squatted. Such things were not for matrimony ; the veil and 
fylfot cross defended the bride and him she loved against them. 
Theirs were the meadow of myrtle and the fields of golden 
flowers, where they would wander hand in hand and heart in 
heart beside the blue and the green of whispering streams, be- 
neath the sycamores, the rowans, and white birches, waiting 
for the grain to ripen and the fruit to form, watching the 
scented breezes blowing the long grasses up and down. 
Theirs were the blush of rose-thickets, the embroidery of 
honeysuckles, and the twining things of pink and white hid- 
ing themselves with green stuff, as if bashful of their beauty. 
And their home would be a fair garden blessed by St. Francis, 
planted with all manner of fragrant herbs, and sanctified by 
angels' visits. 

A dream, but who would break it? Who would sweep 
away symbolism and restore the storm, terror of the sword, 
and heartache? Not Sir Robert, as he put forward a dish to 
receive the offerings, gold, silver, and the ring which had been 
blessed ; all for the bride, the gold and silver for the needs of 
this world, the ring for her soul. Sir Robert took it, and An- 
thonie receiving it from him with the first three fingers of his 
right hand, and holding in his left Petronel's right hand, spoke 
after the priest the words : 

"With this rynge I the wed, and this gold and silver I the 



36 Matrimony 

geve ; and with my body I the worshipe, and with all my 
worldely cathel I the endowe." 

And then he placed the ring upon the thumb of his bride, 
still holding it, and presently beginning the invocation he re- 
moved it, at the name of the Father to the first finger, at the 
name of the Son to the second, and at the name of the Holy 
Ghost to the third. And there he was to leave it, because in 
that finger the Church believed was a certain vein which 
reached to the heart. 

With bowed heads they stood, while Sir Robert lifting up 
his hand, made the sign of the cross over them, and in the 
name of the Lord who made the world out of nothing, blessed 
their union. Then followed the sixty-eighth psalm, which 
was said, not sung, ordinary versicles and the Lord's Prayer, 
more versicles and responses ; and then Sir Robert completed 
the ceremony at the door with another blessing, one complete 
and full, covering their lives upon earth and through eternity, 
the chief of the blessings, apart from the great Sacramental 
benediction which was to come, and could be given only by the 
Host. Drawing himself up, with the same tender smile, Sir 
Robert extended both his hands over the bowed heads, and as 
he slowly made the sign of their redemption, said in a loud 
clear voice in the Latin tongue : 

"God the Father bless you; Jesus Christ keep you; the 
Holy Ghost enlighten you ; the Lord make His face to shine 
upon you, and be merciful unto you ; turn His countenance 
unto you and give you peace ; and so fill you with all spiritual 
benediction for the remission of your sins, that ye may have 
eternal life and live for ever." 



BENEDICTION 



BENEDICTION 

THE Father had finished. It was now time for 

Mother Church to make two one with magic. Be- 
fore the people Anthonie and Petronel were man and 
wife, but in the sight of the Church they were not 
united until they had been presented at the altar, heard Mass, 
received the spiritual food and benediction. The Mass and 
the blessing; these were the powers by which the Church 
ruled every heart and life, making the altar the very centre of 
human existence in those rude days, when the home was very 
simple and the thread of life most weak. There was but one 
service — the Mass ; all other ceremonies were a part of the one, 
a preliminary to the sacrifice; matrimony belonged to the 
order of the Mass, the burial of the dead followed Mass, and 
through all rang the fine clear note of blessing. Obscured by 
rites the ceremonies might be, darkened with all manner of 
words, but out of the mist simplicity emerged — the magic of 
consecration and the sign of the cross ; so much and no more, 
except curses, which were rare and too terrible for use. It was 
a blessing that the people asked for ; for that they waited at the 
door of the church in the early morning, for that they neg- 
lected every duty of the world, for that the knight and the 
statesman sought the cloister. Without that blessing they 
could not live and dared not die. And the Church was lavish, 
she could not bless enough, she endured to bless ; and the peo- 
ple loved her because she was then a church of love. 

Twice had the young couple been blessed at the door, 
six times before the Mass began they were to be blessed at the 
altar, as a preliminary to the Sacramental blessing which se- 
cured the marriage bond ; and in their own home more bless- 
ings must be bestowed upon them before the night began. 

39 



40 Matrimony 

Sir Robert passed towards the rood screen, saying the 
hundred and twenty-eighth psalm, the bride and bridegroom 
followed, while the congregation filled the seats with a gentle 
scuffling. The sun was well above the mists, fighting its way 
like a hero across the heights, putting the golden candlelight 
to shame, making a mystic haze about the altar, where dust 
floated, and a butterfly flickered. Out of these fiery beams of 
June came the voice of Sir Robert, slowly and solemnly be- 
stowing the six blessings : the blessing of the God of Heaven, 
the blessing of the God of the Patriarchs, the blessing of the 
God of the Angels, the blessing of the God of Anthonie and 
Petronel, the blessing of the God of Adam and Eve, and the 
special blessing of the God of all Blessings. The richness of 
these blessings like the day of warmth, clear sky, and flowers 
seemed to fill the land with happiness and colour. 

The Mass began : it was that ordained for Trinity Sun- 
day, with a special memorial of the bride and bridegroom, 
referred to secretly as, "Thy servants whom Thou hast seen 
fit to bring to man 's estate and the day of espousal." The 
altar was covered with three linen cloths, of which one had 
been blessed, six candles of a pound weight each were lighted 
upon the beam above the altar, and two more before Our 
Lady's image; five smaller ones were lighted in a bronze 
corona before the step of the altar. The children were brought 
into the holy place, and set upon the south side, Petronel at 
Anthonie's right hand, between him and the altar, so that she 
might be protected upon either side, by the one who had sworn 
to devote his life and soul and the adoration of the body to 
her, and by the mysteries and the Presence lingering in the 
candle-light, the savour of incense, and the odour of flowers ; 
protection in the highest. It was good there, and very warm 
with light of many kinds. There was no more loneliness, no 
longing, no need for that little red heart to pant for love. 
Perfection had been attained, there upon earth, which was not 



Benediction 41 

earth then, but a chalice all made of gold and filled with what 
looked like fire, but did not burn ; and through this element 
they moved, thrilling, gasping for joy, and in some wondrous 
way it made them one. 

A cloud surrounded them. They were being censed with 
unblessed incense, being creatures of free-will, capable of sin, 
so that incense which had been blessed was not for them. The 
cloud hid the world from their sight, left them alone together 
in their own new heaven, surrounded them with the spiritual 
presence of saints and angels, and the fragrance of a June in 
paradise ; and after that the blessing, for out of the smoke was 
to come a Figure to give them the peace and the promise of 
eternal life, to many them, not for a day, nor for a life, but 
for all time ; to make of their twin souls one instrument of 
music tuned to the song of angels, to add to them beauty, 
sweet-scented blossom and fair fruit, like the tree of the moun- 
tains, covered at that hour with a rich whiteness, as the king's 
daughter all glorious, the Yggdrasil, with its roots in the 
earth and its topmost branches in heaven, offering an oblation 
of small apples red as blood. 

The Sanctus bell rang, the Canon had been reached ; the 
two children, lost in wonder and amazement, saw the white 
folds of the Nuptial Veil. Like creatures of a dream they 
knelt at the step of the altar, and the order was to pray, but 
they could not : all the few simple words they knew were far 
away, their thoughts were confused ; they could only murmur 
"My wife," or "My husband" ; they could only ask, "Bless 
Anthonie," or "Bless Petronel," and could only add, "Let us 
live, O God, let us live." And while thus kneeling and bowed 
together, they were conscious of the veil being drawn over 
them, and held at the four corners, like a cloud of glory out 
of which they were to pass transfigured; there while they 
knelt, Sir Robert, no longer the tender father, but the awful 
priest, who could lead them into heaven or spurn them into 
\ 



42 Matrimony 

hell, was muttering the words of enchantment which would 
draw that Figure down to bless them. They were conscious 
that the miracle was accomplished, they felt the silence, they 
knew when the Eucharistic Fracture was being made, they 
heard at last the Peace being given ; and while they quivered 
like the folds of the Nuptial Veil on this, the supreme moment 
which could never come again, for the Sacramental Blessing 
was not bestowed on second marriages, the Figure was before 
them, with a voice, "Bow down yourselves for a blessing." 
And as they knelt in their white spiritual bed, half fainting 
with fear and love, intoxicated by the sun, the incense, and the 
Presence, swaying there, hand clasped in hand beneath the 
pall, the blessing of the Three Pieces of God upon the paten 
came: 

"O God, Who by Thy mighty power madest all things 
out of nothing; Who also, after other things set in order, didst 
create for man, made after the image of God, the inseparable 
help of the woman, that out of man's flesh women should take 
her beginning, teaching that what Thou hast been pleased to 
make one it should never be lawful to put asunder. 

"O God, Who hast consecrated the state of matrimony 
to such an excellent mystery, that in it is signified the sacra- 
mental union and marriage of Christ and the Church. 

"O God, by Whom woman is joined to man, and the 
union, instituted in the beginning, is gifted with that blessing 
which alone has not been taken away, either through penalty 
of original sin or the judgment of the deluge ; look graciously, 
we beseech Thee, on this Thine handmaid now to be joined 
in wedlock, who earnestly desireth to be guarded by Thy pro- 
tection. Let the yoke of love and peace be upon her; let her 
be faithful and chaste ; let her wed in Christ, and ever remain 
a follower of holy matrons. Let her be loving to her hus- 
band as Rachel, wise as Rebecca, long-lived and faithful as 
Sara. Let not the father of lies get advantage over her 



Benediction 43 

through her doings ; let her abide in the bond of faith and pre- 
cept; being wedded to one man, let her flee all unlawful con- 
versation, and fortify her weakness with the strength of dis- 
cipline. Let her be grave and bashful, severe and modest, 
well-instructed in heavenly doctrine. Let her be fruitful in 
child-bearing, well reported of, and innocent, and attain to a 
desired old age, seeing her children's children unto the third 
and fourth generation, and finally attaining unto the rest of 
the blessed and the Kinsrdom of Heaven." 



THE KISS 



THE KISS 

NO power of Church or State could separate them 
now. The Nuptial Veil was removed, and they 
rose to their feet, still before the altar, for one cere- 
mony remained, a pure act of love, a token of bodily 
devotion. The Church permitted, more, demanded it. They 
could not leave the holy place until God, the priest, and the 
people had been assured of their affection one for the other. 
The bride had yet to receive the Sacramental Kiss. 

Not a kiss of Anthonie, no lover's kiss, nor that of a hus- 
band ; he could not give it : he could only give what he had : 
he must receive it, take it from God this once, and let his wife 
have it as her own. Here was Sir Robert turning towards 
him, with lips which the chalice had wetted, and hands which 
had broken the Host outstretched ; hands which had done no 
violence, lips which had kissed no woman other than a mother, 
and every day were pressed to holy things, altar, text, ves- 
sels, relics, nothing lower. He came through the sunshine, 
with the gift that had fallen like a star upon his mouth from 
the centre of life. He came in tenderness, as a man, a priest, 
and a God, three in one. Upon Anthonie's shoulders he placed 
his hands, and as a man looked into his eyes and smiled a 
little, thinking of the years behind as he saw the boy stand 
straight and tall with courage on his face, saw the clean limbs 
and remembered the child who had been brought to him for 
baptism, the child he had trained, whose growth he had 
watched, whose rash impulses he had checked ; and as a priest 
he sighed, thinking of the years to come, the sorrows and the 
storms, that figure bent, its head frosted, its tongue foolish; 
and as a God he bent his head and kissed him ; then turned 
aside to pray. 

47 



48 Matrimony 

Petronel was ready with uplifted veil and blushing face 
exposed. Now she was married, and sanctified, no charm 
could work. She put out her hands; they were seized. She 
held up her face : for the first time Anthonie saw the lips of a 
wife. They had passed through great moments, but this, 
surely this, was the chiefest. They saw each other, they 
recognized each other, not as Anthonie and Petronel, boy and 
girl, not as lovers, but as husband and wife in the sight of 
earth and heaven. They were married. Not an act could be 
too simple, for every act was new. Matrimony, was it not 
rather second baptism, regenerating both, a baptism of beauty 
and of strength, making Petronel an angel of loveliness, and 
Anthonie a hero of the Sun? They had been born again, not 
to sorrow, but to the life beautiful : happiness was heaped 
upon happiness by that gentle magic of the church. They 
were small children once again, little people of a tale, created 
to play with sunshine and the mist, and to dance on the 
mountain-top, creatures who linked the life they knew of with 
the land of sunset dreams. 

And what if all this should be a fairy-tale? They were 
only boy and girl, they were not new forms : millions of others 
had married, and would marry, of the same form, and differing 
from them in name alone. That supernatural door stood before 
all, and every hand, if it willed, could take the golden key : 
self-same creatures, borrowing nothing from life but names, 
leaving merely such a record in the register as : "June 5th. 
Anthonie Byland and Petronel Layne," until the leaf fell to 
pieces and was lost, and with it their poor lives. 

Surely the enchantment would remain, the glamour would 
be handed on, the story of their love would be repeated ; and 
in that they would endure, and by the kiss become immortal. 
Only false love would die and be forgotten ; the glitter and tin- 
sel of mere passion made the fairy-tale, and that would recede 
from human view and be lost to sight, while the magnificent 



The Kiss 4g 

realism of their matrimony would live for ever in the drifting 
mists and solemn twilights, in the echoes of the mountains, 
and in all the spirit forms of June. No woman could love in 
vain, nor could any man marry in vain; for every meeting of 
two hearts made more light in the universe, more stars in 
space, more lamps beyond. 

So their lips came together, and man did eat angels' food 
before the altar; and with that kiss the doors flew open, and 
they saw the spirit realm by the added sense of that first con- 
tact as man and wife; even as a poet sometimes in blindness 1 
touches an image which sweeps aside the barriers and lets 
him in, or releases the flood of light behind. And they knew 
that the doors could only remain open while they loved; a 
quarrel might close them, one bitter word would lock them, 
and the spiritual vision would fade away; and matrimony, 
which had opened them, would be over; and the golden keys 
of the blessing and Nuptial Kiss could not be theirs again. 

The Mass of matrimony was a Mass of optimism, a Mass 
of blessing. Love must triumph against fate, the children thus 
blessed must be happy ; they could not fail to win the greatest 
of all prizes here if their kiss was true. They would be lovers 
not born for death ; their lives would be written in the litera- 
ture of heaven ; they would walk in a path, unsubstantial ap- 
parently, like the Milky Way across the sky, or the track of 
moonlight upon water, there every year, and every age, and 
always new. Without that nuptial kiss from the heart and 
soul, the kiss of optimism, the seal upon the bond of matri- 
mony, and without the love that it inspires, nothing that is 
lovely in all Nature could remain, each life would be a history 
of shadows, a tale not worth the telling, each day an empty 
echo, and earth would be joined to heaven, no more with sun- 
beams, but by a web of hopeless dreams. 

Bread and water were brought, blessed by Sir Robert, 
and offered to the bride and bridegroom that they might par- 



50 Matrimony 

take of the necessities of the body, which, taken moderately, 
would make them "discreet, sober, and undented." Even as 
the loaves in the wilderness and the waterpots in Cana were 
blessed, in order that they who received the spirit of life into 
their hearts and homes should neither hunger nor thirst. 



THE NIGHT 



THE NIGHT 

MOONLIGHT spread along the vale of Widde- 
combe, putting all things to sleep, and the spirits 
of the wind were kind that night, withdrawing 
themselves, as if so ordered, that there might be 
peace for the lovers. Hardly a sound passed over the quiver- 
ing moor as Sir Robert stepped forth, a long dark cloak, some- 
what threadbare by day, covering his surplice, an office-book 
beneath his arm, a vessel containing holy water between his 
hands. Such a still night was rare in that tempestuous valley; 
there was no need of candlelight, for the moon served, a gra- 
cious light untroubled by gusts or noise of falling water. 
Moths nickered about the old priest, and around his white 
head stirred the fragrance from his garden ; for he loved the 
flowers, and grew what he could, roses and honeysuckle, and 
sweet gillyflowers. 

He stood a moment to gaze into the beautiful night, and 
half unconsciously he blessed it, lifting the holy water vessel, 
and with it making the sign of the cross upon the flowers and 
moonlight, murmuring, "The Father, the Son, and the Holy 
Ghost bless you, fragrant flowers, bless you, pale moon." His 
was a life of blessing, a life wedded to benediction, and some- 
how it was not a failure. 

He passed along the road, and came at last to the new 
home. The door was open ready to receive him, and a faint 
light within guided him to> the foot of the narrow stairs. Bow- 
ing his head, he bestowed upon the little stone-built cot the 
Peace,then ascended and entered the marriage chamber, not 
as a man, but as a priest. 

Anthonie and Petronel were waiting, and when he ap- 
peared they knelt. It was all very simple; the floor covered 

S3 



54 Matrimony 

with crisp brown fern, no ceiling, only the oak beams and 
thatch of reeds above, no fireplace; the window was made 
of lattice-work; but one of the walls was hung with painted 
cloth, a rich and unusual possession for a small country home. 
Against that wall appeared the bed, severely plain, a com- 
pletely furnished bed being accounted a luxury; rough sheets, 
hard pillows, and coverlet, nothing more, for night-robes were 
unknown. Beneath the window an oak chest containing the 
household linen; one chair, a wooden stool, a rough table 
bearing a cross, two candlesticks, and a wealth of flowers to 
make an altar, without which this civilised home would have 
ranked with the huts of the wild savages upon the moor. Two 
candles, which had been blessed, were lighted ready for the 
ceremony. It was a pure chamber, fresh with the presence 
of youth, sweet with the breath of flowers, consecrated by 
love and made holy by the presence of the priest. 

"The Lord be with you," said Sir Robert softly. 

"And with Thy spirit," they answered him. 

The priest lifted his hand, and with the power of his en- 
chantments drove away from that chamber all evil spirits and 
the powers of darkness, saying: 

"Bless, O Lord, this chamber and all that dwell therein, 
that they may be established in Thy peace and stand fast in 
Thy will, and live and grow in Thy love, and let the length of 
their days be multiplied." 

The bride and the bridegroom knelt beside the bed. Sir 
Robert moved towards them and putting out his hands, com- 
mitted the bed to the mercy and protection of the Giver cf 
life, signing and sanctifying it, using these words : 

"Bless, O Lord, this couch, Thou Who neither slumber- 
est nor sleepest ; Thou Who keepest Israel, keep Thy servants 
who rest in this bed from all phantoms and illusions of devils ; 
keep them waking, that they may meditate on Thy precepts ; 
keep them sleeping, that in their slumber they may have a 



The Night 55 



sense of Thee ; and let them here and everywhere be defended 
by the aid of Thy protection." 

And then Anthonie and Petronel turned towards their 
loving old father; and he, with tears in his eyes, gave them 
the last of those abundant blessings. 

"God bless your bodies and your souls, my children, and 
send a blessing upon you as He blessed Abraham, Isaac, and 
Jacob. 

"The hand of the Lord be upon you, dear children, and 
let Him send His holy angel to keep and comfort you all the 
days of your life. 

"The Father, the Son, and the Holy Ghost bless you, 
dearly beloved children, Trine in number, One in Name." 

And then he sprinkled them with holy water three times, 
and departed into the moonlit night, his gentle eyes still 
wet; and so to his home to pray again for all those who loved 
one another, for all those who feared God, and especially for 
those whom he had joined together that bright June day in 
Holy Matrimony. 



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